


Secret in the Silent Train

by Pthithia



Category: Nancy Drew (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Guilt, Trains, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-12
Updated: 2016-07-12
Packaged: 2018-07-23 13:39:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7465536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pthithia/pseuds/Pthithia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She's just a girl. She's just like any other girl. There's a hundred million girls out there just like her.</p>
<p>Except there's not. Not like her. There's nobody quite like her in the entire world. Frank is sure of it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Secret in the Silent Train

_At least we're going home,_ Frank repeats to himself for what must be the thousandth time that evening.

And for the thousandth time that evening, his brain helpfully replies: _No, we're not._

Right. They're not going home. At least, he and Joe aren't. Yet. The train is scheduled to stop first in River Heights, where four young passengers will get off and go home, safe again, in the arms of the people they love most, close together.

Well, at least Frank has still got Joe.

Joe, who would tease him if he knew the truth; if he knew the _whole_ truth. He doesn't, Frank is sure. He's never mentioned it, never even thinks about it much, but then Joe has always been strangely good at seeing right through Frank. Joe, who would tease at first and then leave him be with a pat on the back and a half-smile.

That might even be worse than the teasing, come to think of it, because then it's like things couldn't be normal if Joe knew. Like it would be weird if he knew.

_That's a stupid thing to think,_ his brain says cheerfully. _She's just a girl. She's just like any other girl. There's a hundred million girls out there just like her._

Except there's not. Not like her. There's nobody quite like her in the entire world. Frank is sure of it.

He still won't tell Joe.

Frank leans against the doorframe leading into the sleeping car. The berths aren't the most comfortable of arrangements, but it's dark and almost quiet, and the rocking of the train is guaranteed to lull anyone to sleep.

Not that Frank could sleep in that room. Not with her- or with the others, for that matter. He'll sleep in one of the chairs on the passenger car, maybe. He'd rather take the stiff neck and sore muscles than sleep in such close proximity. _Dammit._ He's starting to feel guilty just being around them.

And even though it's dark in the sleeping berths, he can just see the outline of her body, curled up in the exact center of her cot, flaming hair fanned out against the pillow like seaweed. Frank smiles against his will. She's a fitful sleeper. He knew that before, but somehow seeing it again still makes him smile.

He enters the room carefully, being sure not to jar anything and wake her up (or Bess and George for that matter), wincing at each creak of the floor and rattle of the train. There aren't any blinds on the windows here, but there's no moon out, and the sky is darker than tar. The only light is coming from the weak lantern in the hallway, but he can still see her face. In sleep, she looks like an angel.

And yes, it's a little creepy of Frank to be standing there over her, watching her sleep in the middle of the night, and he's well aware of it, but the fact isn't quite enough to draw him away.

It's cold out; should be snowing soon at this time of year. Everyone awake is wearing coats still, and the train is practically heated. Even so, she's got the blankets thrown off and twisted around her legs, and her pajamas look a little too thin to offer any actual warmth. Judging by the way she's shivering, Frank's hunch is right.

Rather than wrestle with untangling the blankets without waking her, Frank finds another one tucked away and shakes it out. Not too dusty, an added bonus.

It's a navy blue thing, soft enough, and has probably seen better days, but it does its job well enough as he tucks it gently around her lily-white shoulders, taking care to cover her completely.

There. Well, at least she won't freeze.

He'd almost died, when he thought she was hurt - or worse, killed - during this mystery. That would be too much to bear. As it was, seeing her covered in ash and smoke and looking worse for wear, blood coming from her head wound, he nearly fainted. And then, it wouldn't have been proper to rush to her aid anyway, being only her friend and fellow detective. That wasn't  _his_ job.

He smiles again as she curls closer in on herself. She's so peaceful. It's not like Frank can't appreciate the way her eyes crackle and sparkle during the day, especially when she's on a case, or how her face lights up and her voice goes up an octave when she cracks a mystery. It's just that seeing the obverse of that, total relaxation and unawareness and contentment are a rarity to see. For him, of course. He tries not to make it a habit of watching her sleep.

Speaking of which.

Frank slowly backs away from her, again watching out for noise or disturbances that might jar her awake. That's not something that would work in his favor, if she rolled over and saw him lurking in the corner of the room. He steals one last look at her sleeping face, so beautiful, before whirling around. It's enough. He can't think about her like this anymore. It's unfair to her. It's certainly unfair to Frank himself. And most of all it's unfair to-

"Ned!"

Frank jumps, feeling his heart pounding as he collides with his smiling friend.

"Sorry, I didn't see you-"

"No, my bad, I should've been paying attention-"

"Don't worry about it."

Ned smiles down at Frank, totally oblivious to the thoughts whizzing around his guilty conscience. "Are you heading to bed?"

"No," Frank says, a little too forcefully as he edges into the hallway to keep the noise down.

"Oh, okay. But-" Ned gives him a strange look. "Then what were you doing in there--?"

"Looking for Joe," Frank lies, picking the first thing that comes to mind. "But I think he's in the passenger car, so- I'm just going there now."

"Alright." The Look is still on Ned's face. "Are you feeling alright?"

"Yes, thank you. Goodnight," Frank answers quickly. He gives a smile that may be more of a grimace and turns to half run, half walk down the rest of the hallway to the train car connector, trying to ignore the thoughts rising in him, swift like water and heavy like tears. Trying to ignore the thought of Ned climing into bed with her, of Ned holding her close as they fall asleep, of Ned being the one to hold a towel to the flow of blood from her head and sweep her off her feet.

The guilt is heavier and darker now. Ned is his friend. Friends don't think these things about their friend's lady-friend.

_Girlfriend,_ Frank's brain chimes in. He scowls to himself. Ned is his friend. He can't do this sort of thing to him. Frank Hardy is serious and methodical and obedient, and he follows the rules. This is one rule he would never break.

Back in the passenger car, Joe is flipping through an abandoned book that looks suspiciously like a cheesy romance novel, but before Frank can get a good look Joe has tossed it aside and stood up to greet him.

"It's late," Joe says in lieu of _hello_ , raising an eyebrow at his brother. Frank desperately hopes that the inner turmoil he is experiencing doesn't show on his face.

Even if it didn't it wouldn't matter, because Joe knows Frank better than anyone, and sometimes he looks at him like he can see straight through him. Like now. Now, Joe is eyeing him as if Frank is made of glass, hollow and clear with no place to hide secrets, and it's one of the few things Joe Hardy can do to give his brother jelly-legs.

"Are you coming to bed?" Joe continues, brow still raised.

"No, I'm going to- stay up for a bit longer." Frank nods self assuredly, and Joe says nothing. "To read." Silence. "But- you should go to bed?" Frank rambles, feeling his composure breaking as Joe just stares at him and says nothing.

"Okay. I think I will." Joe is quiet for a moment. "Or, I mean, I could stay up. And we could talk a little. If you want."

It's obvious Joe isn't implying a discussion on the weather.

"No, you should go. It's been a long day for everyone. I'll be there soon." Another lie, but probably an inconsequential one.

"Alright. Goodnight, Frank."

"'Night, Joe."

His brother gives him one last long look before walking past him, heading back to the sleeping car.

Frank sighs, collapsing into Joe's abandoned chair and retrieving the book he'd tossed aside earlier, glancing uneasily at the suggestive cover before flipping it open to the first page.

He'll stay up and read for a while, until he falls asleep in the unforgiving wooden chair, and he'll dream of the girl with red hair. And that's it. He'll dream. Because Frank Hardy follows the rules, always, and Nancy Drew is one discrepancy he can't afford.

**Author's Note:**

> Essentially just a warm up fic, but one that was in my brain in the middle of the night and wouldn't leave me alone until I wrote it. Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed!


End file.
